Alistair watched as Tristan munched on spicy vegetables with a red face in amusement. The freckles seemed more prominent and made him look overly cute, especially with the stuffed cheeks.
"You can have my food," Alistair offered, even though he was enjoying the appearance of the angel, struggling to chew on the food.
It was peculiar to see an angel, fallen or not, with tears in his eyes due to spicy food. While they could taste spice, it did not cause physiological reactions. It reinforced the belief that something was odd about Tristan.
"No, I like it. It is like fire in my mouth," Tristan answered after swallowing.
Alistair chuckled and continued with his own meal. If the little angel wanted to experience the novelty of human food on a difficult level, he would indulge him. However, he kept a note to order something more palatable next time.
The meal finished with a sweaty Tristan and a chuckling Alistair. However, Alistair catalogued the information. Tristan was more than peculiar. He was an enigma wrapped in a mystery, and Alistair was going to unravel him.
But he needed to take it slow, or his little angel would clam up.
"I want to take a bath," Tristan declared.
Alistair lifted his eyebrows in surprise at the statement. It was not a question. He could see that if he indulged Tristan a little more, he would become a menace. But he did not mind the thought even a little.
His greed to have the angel all to himself rose again.
He would never admit it, but he was afraid that if the angel saw the outside world, he would be stolen from him. If he, the first fallen and the so-called devil, could not resist Tristan, he did not doubt that he would draw attention from all creatures.
A thought came unbidden to his mind.
If he spoiled Tristan until he became unbearable, like a princess of human fairy tales, then it would be difficult for him to leave. Perhaps no one would be able to bear a spoiled Tristan when Alistair was done with him.
It was a sick desire in a way, but Alistair was not used to playing fair. Moreover, this angel was the first thing he had truly wanted for himself since his fall. His other want was to escape His control.
Another thought arose.
Was it a coincidence that Tristan had fallen so close to his domain, or was it another part of His plan? The thought made him a little sick because he had fallen to escape from His control.
However, as he looked at Tristan with his chin in the air and with wide eyes, looking at him with false bravado, waiting for his answer, he could not bring himself to care about divine plans.
If anything, he would take Tristan as his rightful compensation.
Heaven could not have Tristan again. Everything about him would belong to him.
"You can use your divine light to cleanse yourself," Alistair replied. "It is much more efficient."
Tristan seemed to struggle for a bit before responding with the most adorable pout. "But you hate the divine light. I suppose that it is irritating to you. Plus, I like baths. I liked bathing in the river in my garden."
Alistair felt a mixture of feelings that he had never personally experienced but had seen among the humans. The first feeling was of incredulousness at the statement. The thought of someone casually bathing in the River of Life was absurd.
He also heard the wistfulness in Tristan's voice. It was a sound of nostalgia, which was expected, considering that he had only recently fallen. It was natural to miss his garden, especially when he was surrounded by unfamiliar death energy.
The darker part of Alistair was ugly in its unreasonable thoughts. It was possessive as it thought of Tristan bathing casually in the open garden. Even though He could see all things, it did not feel right that He might have seen Tristan in that state.
It was unreasonable.
Yet, he could not stop himself from thinking about it. He wanted to be the only one who could make Tristan vulnerable. He wanted to break him down, tear him apart and then put him together again until all he could think about was him.
He was truly mad for this angel he had just met.
"I do not hate the divine light." It was not exactly a lie because he could never hate anything about Tristan. Of that, he was certain. "But if you insist, I will run you a bath."
Alistair had never served others. When he fell, he had countless fallen angels and humans to do his bidding. Even when he separated himself from the world, he still had people to do things for him.
If the people he considered friends saw him, they would be appalled and possibly consider taking him to a human doctor or using witchcraft to diagnose him. However, when Tristan's face lit up, he could not bring himself to care.
It reinforced his dark thoughts.
He would spoil this angel so that he would be less tolerable than the worst demon. Then, he would be bound to him, unable to leave. He would create dependence in a world that was unfamiliar.
What did the humans call it? Oh, yeah. Stockholm syndrome.
Except Tristan did not know he was a captive of Alistair. By the time he realised, it would be too late. If he had his way, Tristan would never discover that he had been trapped in an inescapable web.
"I want it to smell nice," Tristan added with sparkling eyes.
"You will have to do with my products for tonight," Alistair said with a dishonest apology, because as much as he loved Tristan's scent, he also wanted him to smell like him. "We will get you what you want tomorrow."
"Does that mean we can go outside tomorrow?" Tristan asked.
"If you behave for me," Alistair teased.
"I will be the best fallen angel you have ever met," Tristan said solemnly.
'You already are,' Alistair thought to himself.